The answer is 42.

I’ve no ideas for blogging. I’ve ideas for stories, for art, for conversation, and no time to pursue them. My laptop won’t accept any discs and so I can’t get my scanner to work because I can’t use the start up disc. One camera is broken and the other camera needs batteries. My writing time I’ve been using to grade assignments and I’m still behind on grading. I can barely keep up the lesson plans.

And I’m foolish enough to not only think I can do NaNoWriMo but to think I can write my mother’s novel.

Funny.

The books I want to read are going unread. The book my mother-in-law wants me to read is going unread and she keeps asking me about it.

I can’t even begin about the dogs.

But today students baked me a chocolate cake and since my age is now the answer, my husband gave me a towel. Don’t panic!

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10 thoughts on “The answer is 42.”

Sounds like it’s time for a list. A list of all the things you want to get done, and then prioritize all the things you want to get done. Just chip away at it a little at a time, and before you know it, you’ll be through it. And you can do 2 things at once – I have a book I read before I fall asleep, and one I read while I’m grabbing lunch or a bite to eat, so I read 2 books at once.

I had something witty and elegant to say — or so I told myself — but by the time I got upstairs with my 2nd cup of tea just now I’d already forgotten what it was. Too much on my mind, I guess. 🙂

You know I empathize with the “it’s all too, too much” problem.

But y’know, weirdly, as much as I lose track of all the little things I need to do at a given moment, at that same moment, I could number and name every single person to whom I owe an apology for being so overloaded that I snapped at them, or laughed at the wrong moment, or hurt in some other way (even if they don’t seem to have noticed).

This is probably not a prescription for good mental health. Let alone a symptom of it.

Odd (funny?) that we can list all these things going off the rails, even as we watch them doing so — but don’t seem to be able to stop committing to them (and whatever follows) in the first place.

Safe trip to South America for your husband. Good week for you in the meantime. I’d offer to do some grading for you but, y’know, could you just finish this chapter for me? Seems like a fair trade.

My friend had a stroke two years ago and I think I might be finally recovering. He can’t talk at all anymore. I started giving speeches about some things I’m doing and people listen, though I want to somehow tell them that I really don’t know what I’m talking about but I simply like talking without stopping. I just want to talk and then eavesdrop on strangers, but I don’t want to listen to anyone I actually know. Thanks to Verizon, I lost phone and internet access for a week this month and I missed it but felt so free. I want to publish chapbooks myself, bound with red string, and leave them around the city. Maybe I will handwrite them if people can still read handwriting. I have a draft finished, but it’s typed. My friend who had a stroke and who can’t talk anymore once wanted to write a screenplay about George Washington. I think he can still do that now, but he wrote that I should forget about him so I guess I’ll never know.

SimpleWordsorhwhatever,
Your blogging moniker seems to have changed, but don’t I know you? Know in the online, cyberspace sense of the word? I’ve missed your voice and wondered about you–assuming I’m correct about who you are. A while back I tried to visit your cyber corner again, but nothing was there–or rather, it was closed.

So.

Eavesdropping on strangers is better because nothing you hear can hurt you or have anything to do with you at all. So much more freeing.

I’d really encourage you to leave the chapbooks if you lived near me, But, really, it is a fun and good idea. Go try it.

Sorry about the friend who have the stroke. Sorry for you, everyone he cares about, and for him. Not being able to talk changes the world, doesn’t it?